2PEnglandxMuteMaleReader
by ChamiriHatake101
Summary: The night of murders came upon (f/n) and he witnessed first hand his mother being killed. Thinking he would be killed next, he was surprised to be taken in by the murderer for reasons unknown to him. But he grows to like the murderer. Dare he say, love the murderer. This is a reader insert story I first published on DA but it was taken down because of the sex scene at the end.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia or you, just the story.

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Screams erupted from the poor civilian in a two story house. She ran from the intruder wielding a sharp kitchen knife who followed her up the stairs to another room. The blonde tried to hide with the time she got, unsuccessful as the crazed man with knife entered with a grin plastered on his face. The woman fell on her backside and kicked herself away from him, sliding roughly on the floor. He merely chuckled, stepping slowly towards her.

The blue eyes that stared at the man shook in fear. Thoughts raced her mind, evidently knowing that she would no longer live once this moment was over. Other thoughts of her child entered her mind. Her son happened to visit today. Her eyes glanced back and forth, searching for her mute child. The room she was in belonged to him. Before she could glance at the closet with shades for doors instead of an actual door, the pink haired man stepped closer and pulled her up by her hair hair. Her eyes then focused on her murderer.

This was the usual night where killers picked a home to slaughter and came out to play. She regretted ever not locking the door and checking who knocked on it. Her son, her dearest (f/n). Thank goodness he knew to hide. She was happy that he was born mute, for he wouldn't be able to make a sound if the murderer checked for anyone else. It was only her in this house, but there were two cars. This man would obviously search the entire building until he felt no one else was here.

Truth be told, (f/n) wasn't her real son. She loved him as a son, though, and raised him since the day she adopted him. All her memories pulled forward in her mind as she felt the tip of the kitchen knife on her neck. Tears streamed down her face. She remembered the day she adopted him, the day he first learned to ride his bike, all the days they learned sign together so he could speak with his hands. She lifted up her own hands, hoping that (f/n) may see her sign her last words.

'I love you, my son.' The man before her raised a bushy pink eyebrow, wondering what she said. Shrugging, he pulled the blade away and rammed it full force into her neck. Her eyes widened as the pain shot through her body. Choking on the blood entering her esophagus and airway, the blood pooled into her mouth, soon spilling out onto her clothes and floor. When he ripped the blade back out, the red liquid spurted from her open wounds. He let her fall on her side and bleed out.

(E/c) irises watched closely through the blinds of the closet door, shaking as tears threatened to spill. (F/n) held his (dominant hand) over his mouth, shocked. Witnessing his mother's murder shook the young man hard. He lost his parents once before and he didn't want to lose anymore people who he loved, but it seemed the world had other plans. He gazed at the pool of blood his now dead mother laid in, shuddering at the idea of being the next victim. (F/n) didn't want to die. No one did.

"Oh dear." The man spoke as he licked his knife. "Seems I went a little overboard." He giggled, scoping the room out with a hum. (F/n) kept quiet as the man walked around the room, first stepping towards his desk then towards the bed. "This seems to be a child's room." The pinket mused aloud. "Where could the child be?" His blue eyes swirled with pink instantly glanced at the closet. The most obvious place a child would hide. He grinned. "Dear, dear, dear. Where could they possibly be hiding?" He asked, giggling as he approached the closet. "What's behind...door number one!"

(F/n) gasped inaudibly when the doors whipped open quickly. He held himself, pressing his body against the farthest corner of the closet. The (brunet/blond/etc.) trembled as he wished for the other to leave. He felt foolish enough to think that hiding in the closet would be the best place for him. Clenching his (e/c) eyes shut, he squeezed his (f/c) teddy bear that he had all his life and never left behind. He knew the man was staring at him, shivering as the other chortled once more.

"There you are." He sang, crouching as he inspected the young man closer. The man hummed. "Dearie me, you are precious." Extending his hand that did not hold the knife, he griped (f/n)'s shoulder and lightly pulled him out. The younger man felt surprised that he was treated gently, unlike his mother. Blue-pink eyes looked (f/n) over as he grinned wider, lifting the knife up and brushing the (h/c) hair in (f/n)'s face away from his (e/c) eyes. "My, you have amazing eyes. It'd be a shame for me to kill you and not be able to see them." Humming, he used his knife as a finger to tap against his chin to think. "Then again, I could just gouge them out before I kill you."

When those words left his mouth, (f/n)'s eyes shook in fear. He pushed against the other, hands quickly speaking his mind in habit. 'Please don't kill me! I don't want to die! Please, I'll do anything for you if you spare my life!' Unfortunately, the British pinket didn't understand a word he signed. Though, that instantly made it clear to him that the young man before him must be mute. Deaf people also knew sign, but he knew that the other could hear him with no problem.

"Apologies, poppet, but I don't understand a blooming thing you are trying to tell me." (F/n) frowned, hugging himself as he stared at the floor. For once in the Brit's life, he felt the need to shelter this person. His heart fluttered at the thought of taking care of someone again, his grin turning from murderous to happy instantly. Before he could speak to the other, his radio's static caught his attention.

i"Yo, Oliver, ya damn Brit. We're finished with our choices. What's taking you so fucking long?"/i A gruff voice through the static made the (nationality) stare at the walkie-talkie on the other's hip.

i"Maybe he's taking his time. You know how he likes to take a few things from the body as a trophy."/i A thick French accent joined in, slowly stating his thought.

i"I wasn't asking you, Francoise."/i The voice from before hissed in annoyance. i"God dammit, Oliver, pick up! If you're dissecting your victim again, I won't think twice about bashing your head with my bat!"/i

Oliver sighed, grabbing his talkie and pressing the button to speak. "Such violent threats!" He giggled. "Do not worry, my dear Jason. I finished up minutes ago." He unclenched to button, ready to hear Jason shout at him again.

i"Then get your fucking ass over at the rendezvous point!"/i

Something about this conversation made (f/n) chuckle, though no one could hear it. Oliver saw him giggle, smiling. "Right away, mate." Placing the talkie on his hip once more, he reached for the other man. "You'll be with me from now one, sweetie." Shocked, (f/n)'s (e/c) eyes widened as he let the other lead him out of his old home. "Don't worry. I'll make sure no one lays a finger on your precious head."

As they walked through the streets in the night, (f/n) heard blood curdling screams, hair raising sounds, fire crackling, even insane laughter. He made sure to stay close to Oliver, clasping his hand. The Brit squeezed the other's hand once he held it. His eyes glanced everywhere, keeping notes on who was near by. They stayed close, walking around dead bodies and crashed cars once in a while.

(F/n) tried not to look around. He knew that the crimson moon lit everything up with that creepy red. His (e/c) eyes would glance around once or twice after a few feet. He'd capture images of cars aflame, psychos killing other civilians, obscene acts done to corpses. A shiver ran down his back when he realized there were such people just to relieve their sexual tensions. Facing forward, he kept his eyes on the ground before his fumbling sneakers.

After they passed the last house on the street, Oliver skipped towards the outskirts where a van sat in the distance. Once they arrived near the van, the back doors slammed open. (F/n) jumped and hid behind Oliver when he saw a dark red haired man glare at them with rage filled crimson eyes. Oliver giggled as you hid, smiling at the man before them.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting." He stepped around and into the van, pulling the (brunet/blond/etc.) in with him. "Jason, stop glaring at the poor man. He's been through a lot."

"The idea was to kill everyone, not spare just one person." Jason scowled, scanning the trembling man's visage. He grinned. "So, did you keep him as a treat? I can imagine it would be fun to fuck him until he bleeds out the ass."

A second person chuckled. "You know, that does sound fun." His hockey stick slid down the van's wall as he leaned forward, pushing his black sunglasses up and gazing at (f/n) with his dark lavender eyes. "Though, this guy doesn't look like he'd be vocal enough." Reaching with one of his fingerless gloved hands, the pale blond took (f/n)'s chin. "He'd probably clamp up just to irritate us."

Oliver slapped the hand away. "Don't touch him, Jeremiah!" He threatened the man with glaring daggers, holding the (nationality) close to him.

"Someone's become possessive." A Chinese man turned around from the front seat to get a good look at the new adage in their group. "That's not very likable, Ollie. You shouldn't get attached to him. That would only trouble us if we had to protect someone we should have killed long ago." The Russian next to him in the driver seat nodded with a gruff grunt, agreeing.

"Pish posh!"Oliver pouted. "This man could be taught the ways of fighting we do. I know Flavio will enjoy his presence as much as I do when we get back to our home." Everyone scoffed at his use of the word 'home', except the Frenchman who smoke his cigarette while staring at the (h/c) haired man.

During all of this, (f/n) kept his eyes down, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. He felt scared being with people he didn't know, especially with people who killed others for a living. He didn't like the idea of learning to fight, but figured it could help him if he would be stuck with this group from today on. He unconsciously clung to the British man hugging him, not liking how the others talked about him. Oliver smiled at the action, brushing his finger's through the man's (h/c) hair, placing a small kiss on his head as well. This caused the younger man to blush and hide his face behind his bangs.

"Why haven't you spoken a word?" Francoise asked the man clinging to his friend. The others in the van suddenly stopped speaking to stare again at the new face. (F/n) looked up at the dull blond who spoke. They waited for him to answer but Jason's short fuse wouldn't be patient enough.

Banging his fist on the metal wall next to him, Jason glared through his red lenses at (f/n). "Why the fuck aren't you answering us, huh?! Do you think you're better than us to not speak? Like it'd be too damn troubling!?"

Furrowing his eyebrows together, (f/n) shook his head. His fear of the situation he was in still gripped him, but he knew that nothing would come of it if he wallowed in that fear. He let go of Oliver, who he was surprised didn't mention he was mute since he instantly noticed, and signed his response.

'I am unable to speak because I am mute.'

Jason's eyes widened as well as his brother's. Francoise didn't show emotion, but he was quite shocked himself. Zao wasn't able to see anything so he felt left out, but shrugged and turned to look at the road with Ilia. Oliver merely nodded to (f/n).

"This poor chap is mute. He can't speak but knows sign language." Looking at his companions, he asked, "Do any of you know sign?"

"Da." Ilia mumbled quietly as he drove the van to their head quarters. He didn't realize all eyes were on him now, but he didn't care. "I know enough to speak and translate, no problem." His red-violet eyes glanced at the rear view mirror for a second. "So entrust his speech to me."

"Okay, but I'd like for all of us to learn sign." Oliver stated. "The dear will most likely want to converse with everyone after meeting us all." He pet (f/n)'s hair. "He also might need someone to talk to about anything." Oliver wanted to be that someone. He knew, though, that the other might not want to talk to him since the Brit killed (f/n)'s mother. He didn't forget that the young man clung to him, though, so maybe there's room for forgiveness and acceptance.

Jason scowled. "Nobody has time to learn another stupid language."

"Well I do." Oliver pouted at Jason, soon smiling as he held (f/n)'s waist with one of his hands. The (brunet/blonde/etc.) blushed profusely, looking away but not pushing himself away. He knew that the man who held him now killed his mother not even an hour ago, but there was something about the British man that made him feel he wouldn't harm him. Not intentionally. "And since I do," Oliver continued, brushing his fingers through (h/c) hair again, "I believe all of you do as well."

No one said anything after that. They just accepted the fact that Oliver would force them to learn sign for (f/n)'s sake and would put up with it. Ilia grunted quietly, knowing full well that he would have to waste time teaching the other idiots, too. Zao stared out the window at the wastelands that separated their head quarters from every town. Jason glared at the floor and his brother, Jeremiah, focused on his hockey stick, cleaning off the blood. Francoise was the only one who stared at (f/n), feeling as if he knew the man from somewhere. (F/n) ignored everyone else for the rest of the ride, leaning into the warmth that Oliver offered him and soon falling asleep.

Several months after that night, (f/n) held a firm part in the gain he met. Everyone learned how to sign for his sake, and though it took a long while for most of the others to warm up to him, the gain accepted him. With accepting him, they felt the need to teach him how to survive like them. Kudo and Zao taught him how to hold and use a sword skillfully; Lutz taught him how to defend with his fists; Luciano taught him how to throw knives at his target's vulnerable spots. Jeremiah and Jason didn't really teach (f/n) anything but hung out and played games when they were in the mood. Flavio and Francoise showed him how to disassemble and reassemble a gun as well as how to shoot one, which the (brunet/blond/etc.) seemed to do well easily in. Ilia took the spot to teach him how to handle weapons like pipes and poles. Oliver was the only one who taught him how to cook deserts, or any foods, and insert poison, camouflaging the taste with ease.

Out of all the different nationalities in the group, (f/n) took to Oliver faster, surprisingly. The gang knew for a fact that Oliver killed (f/n)'s mother right in front of him, so they were always shocked to see the man go over to him more often than the others.

Through the months, they found out that the (nationality) was adopted, so the person Oliver killed wasn't biologically his mother but still was his mother. They also found out that he had a knack for hacking like Kudo rarely ever showed. He would be able to get into a system in less than three minutes. He admitted to them that he only acquired this skill to cheat his way through online games and be the best fighter. Most of the men laughed at his honesty to where the rest only grinned in amusement.

(F/n), out of boredom one day, found an underground building a mile from the place they all live in. None of them knew about it until he told them about it. Soon enough, the place was claimed as there's and used as a training center. The underground hide out held enough areas for each skill the men held - it even had a computer room that had screens of cameras to overlook everyone in each room - and they all were fired up to restore the place and use it to their advantage. The (brunet/blond/etc.) took more time out of his schedule, that was nonexistent, to restore the place.

He first rewired the electronics in the building and started up the generator. Once the computers came on, he reworked the system so that he could add holograms and obstacle courses for each room. (F/n) was on cloud 9 as he spent days and nights in the computer room while everyone else went out to do as they liked or cleaned the rooms so they were spic and span. Oliver kept him company and made sure the other ate when he came to check on him once in a while.

The Brit worried about his health with focusing on the building besides going outside. (F/n)'s complexion paled as the days went by with him staying inside and refusing to leave the project unfinished. One day, the pinket had enough of this so he went up to his precious (nationality) and spoke what was on his mind.

"(F/n), you need to get out of here and see the sun again!" The (h/c) haired man peered over his shoulder at his favorite gang member for a second before going back to the project. "Don't you dare ignore me, mister!" Oliver huffed, walking over and pulling the other away from the computer station and spinning him around in the chair. (F/n) blinked in surprise as he gazed into Ollie's swirling irises. "You spent enough time on this where we can practice to get stronger! You need to take a long break, dearie, and get back outside." His concern showed more than his anger.

(F/n) smiled softly. 'I will once I'm done with this program for driving simulations.'

"No, you will now." Oliver pouted, his blue eyes staring into (e/c). "Please, sweetie. You need some vitamin D from the sun rays."

Sighing through his nose, (f/n) nodded, leaning up and pecking Oliver on the lips. 'If that will make you feel better, I'll walk with you outside.' He smiled as Oliver blushed at the sudden kiss.

"I would be very happy if you accompanied on a stroll, yes." He took (f/n)'s hand and lightly tugged him out of the computer seat, heading for the elevator that went to the outside world. "You really should hole yourself in there, darling. It's not good for you." Glancing over, he pressed his lips against (f/n)'s cheek. "I understand that once you're finally done configuring everything for all of us, you'll rejoin us in the house. I just worry over you, poppet."

The (brunet/blond/etc.) nodded, stepping on to the upper ground for the first in days when the elevator door opened. His eyes closed instantly at the brightness, soon adjusting and scanning the area. It seemed to be summer time. He didn't realize he stayed underground through all of the winter. Then again, he did remember the other members of the gang trying to get him away from the computer for a small Christmas celebration, but he locked the doors once they finally left to be alone. Had he really been spending that much time on the computer?

Oliver hummed to himself, pulling the other man towards the house so they could get something to eat. When they entered the place, (f/n) noticed the lack of people. He gazed questioningly at Oliver. The Brit chuckled, letting go of his hand to start up some food.

"They left to go restock our items and kill some time out of boredom." The pinket took out ingredients for some cupcakes, knowing that Flavio would be cooking spaghetti for dinner. "Would you like to help me?" The other nodded vigorously, not hesitating to help Oliver bake their favorite type of cupcake.

Once the platter entered the oven, (f/n) hugged Oliver from behind. The Briton smiled, patting the (brunet/blond/etc.)'s hands on his abdomen. "Thanks for the help, love." He slowly turned around to the other, catching their smile as the gazed up at him. A grin spread on his face, Oliver cupped (f/n)'s face and kissed him passionately. (F/n) would have hummed in content if he could.

They wrapped their arms around each other, Oliver's hands wandering down to (f/n)'s body to his bum and groping. The (nationality) pressed his body closer to Oliver's and the Englishman hummed, licking the other's lips. (F/n) opened his mouth, consenting, wiggling his tongue against Ollie's once it plunged into his mouth. They twisted their tongues around the other's, each humming either mentally or aloud. (F/n)'s hands moved up into Oliver's pink hair, pushing their faces closer, as Oliver gripped (f/n)'s tush and ground his pelvis against (f/n)'s. If the man could audibly moan, he would be doing just that.

"Heh. Looks like they're getting some. Gross." Jason's voice caused (f/n) to jump and hide his blushing face in Oliver's chest. The Brit chuckled, blushing a bit as well as he welcomed the American home. "(F/n), I'm going to warn you now. This bastard here is a concealed sadist." The redhead walked over, bat slung across his shoulders as he pulled (f/n) away so he could see him speaking. "When he has sex, he gets fucking wild. And I mean, wild. He'll bite you in places you didn't know were sensitive. Shit, man, he even claws and sometimes brings a knife in and starts playing with you." The American shivered, though (f/n) didn't know if it was because he was getting aroused or disgusted.

"Leave him alone, Jason." Oliver grabbed (f/n) back and hugged him close, grinning. "He'll figure all of that out on his own. Besides, I have my own gentle side." He giggled, stroking (f/n)'s face as he gazed into the other's (e/c) irises. Leaning closer to his ear, Oliver asked in a hushed whisper, "Would you like to continue this in my room?"

(F/n)'s face blossomed into a shade of red Jason never saw before. Sighing, the American shrugged. "Do what you want. I don't give a fuck." Leaving the room, he left Oliver with his new love.

Taking this opportunity, Oliver fetched the cupcakes as they finished then put them in the refrigerator. Once he closed the door, he turned around and grabbed (f/n)'s hands, guiding him towards the pinkest room in the entire house. When in the room, (f/n) gazed around in awe of how anything could be this pink. It was his first time stepping in Oliver's room, so he wanted to scan it and see everything the man owned. The pinket chuckled at this, soon embracing (f/n) from behind.

"My bed is the softest one in this house." He stated. The (nationality) peered over his shoulder, listening. "I bet no matter how rough we go at it, you will still feel like you're on a cloud." He giggled, pecking the (brunet/blond/etc)'s cheek before dragging the other over to feel the bed. (F/n), once on the bed, instantly flopped down, curling up into a ball, in bliss. The Briton chuckled, laying besides the other, pulling him to his chest. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into (f/n)'s hair and breathing in. "You haven't showered in a while, have you dearie?" He glanced at the younger man in his arms, who tensed up a bit, gazing at the him with an honest, guilty stare. "Why don't we take one later then? Together." The blush on (f/n)'s face caused the man to laugh. "Of course, if you're not comfortable with that, I'll leave you be, sweetie."

Silence fell between them - a comfortable silence - and (f/n) found himself nearly unconscious. A kiss on the back of his neck woke him up though. Oliver's lips nibbled at the nape of his love's neck, sucking the skin softly. The (h/c) haired man wiggled as he felt his body warm up from the little action. When Oliver moved his mouth to the front of (f/n)'s neck, slowly rising himself up to lean over him, his (e/c) eyes widened as his mouth opened. The Englishman found a sensitive spot on the other man's neck, near the collar bone.

Grinning, Oliver took this chance to French kiss the man as he rolled them to where he was above the other. (F/n) instantly wrapped his arms around the pinket's head, allowing the man to roam his mouth. Their tongues intermingled, twisting left and right, curling around each other. They stayed like this for a few minutes until they desperately need to inhale air once more. (F/n) panted, never experiencing such a passionate kiss like that before. Oliver grinned, brushing fingers through (h/c) hair as he hummed. When they caught enough air, Oliver slowly leaned in and kissed him again. (F/n)'s hands went straight into the pinket's hair, pushing their lips even closer.

In this moment, Oliver slipped his hands from (f/n)'s hair down the younger man's body to the hem of his shirt. The (h/c) haired man shivered in pleasure as the hands lightly cascaded down, pulling his shirt up so Oliver could see the pink nubs on (f/n)'s chest. He then moved his head, kissing the other's chin all the way down to the collarbone, leaving a hicky in the sensitive area before licking and sucking (f/n)'s nipples. The mute man opened his mouth in shock at the pleasure he felt, back arching off the bed. The Brit instantly slithered his hand to the other's buttocks as the other one tweaked and rolled the free nipple. His hand slipped under (f/n)'s pants and boxers, middle finger pushing itself in between the round cheeks down there and rubbing the entrance he would be using later.

(F/n) writhed under Oliver, loving the pleasure he was receiving. He pressed his lower half up against Oliver's, grinding his pelvis with the Briton's. The pinket moaned, mouth moving to the other nipple and hand cupping (f/n)'s growing length through his pants. Oliver's flexible fingers soon unbuttoned and drew down the zipper, lowering the other's pants and grabbing (f/n)'s dick from under the boxers it hid in. The (nationality) gasped inaudibly, bucking into the Brit's cold hand.

Oliver grinned once more, as he pulled off of (f/n)'s pert nub, moving down towards the saluting, pulsing length in his hand. He gathered saliva in his mouth, letting it pour out onto his hand and (f/n)'s penis so the friction would be slicker. Then he pumped the length, smirking at the reaction he gained. After thirteen pumps with his hand, he leaned his head down and swallowed (f/n)'s entire pulsing length in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down immediately. (F/n)'s (e/c) irises widened before clenching them shut, willing himself not to buck in Oliver's mouth.

When the Briton felt that that was enough fondling, he released (f/n)'s dick with a pop, grinning at the flushed, aroused expression his lover showed. He quickly shimmied the (brunet/blond/etc.)'s shirt and pants off, soon taking off his own so they were both naked. His own length, longer and wider, stood proudly high. (F/n) instantly began to fear the pain he knew would course through his body with that dick entering him. He meekly signed 'Please be gentle, it's my first time.' Oliver smiled sincerely, cupping (f/n)'s right cheek and kissing him.

"Fear not, love. I'll prepare you enough so it won't hurt as horribly as I know it could be." True to his word, Oliver leaned over towards his bedside table, pulling out some lubricant and pouring some on his hand as well as (f/n)'s puckering hole. When he warmed the lub in his hand, he smeared the cold lub around his lover's hole, warming it up before pushing in a finger. (F/n) gasped inaudibly once more, clenching the sheets under him with his hands. "Easy there, dear. Relax." He massaged the inside of (f/n)'s thigh, willing the other to relax. "It will be easier if you're not tense. It won't hurt you as much, either, when I add more fingers." Nodding, the (h/c) haired (nationality) breathed in and out of his nose, calming down and loosening his body.

As (f/n)'s body relaxed, Oliver added a second finger, pumping it in and out, scissoring the hole open. He leaned forward, tongue out and pushing into (f/n)'s rectum. The mute then remembered how that place must be dirty. Very dirty. He tried to sit up and push Oliver away. The Brit pulled out, raising an eyebrow as he looked at his lover.

'That place is dirty!' He signed, blushing terribly. 'Don't stick your tongue in there!'

Oliver merely chuckled. "It's all right, poppet. It's not that gross." He nodded his head towards the bottle of lubricant on the sheets next to him. "The lubricant is flavored." (F/n) sighed, shaking his head. "Let me continue, dearie." And he continued fingering (f/n), respecting his love's wish for his tongue not to enter.

He entered a third finger, playing around for a while longer and enjoying the writhing figure below him before he felt he prepped enough. Pulling out his fingers, he giggled at a displeased look on (f/n)'s face and aligned his throbbing dick with the (brunet/blond/etc.)'s puckering hole. Without any warning, he slid in fast. A moan escaped him as he felt the tightness around his now sheathed length. Blue-pink eyes gazed down at cloudy (e/c) irises. He smiled, waiting for (f/n) to give him the go.

Never before has (f/n) felt such pleasure and pain. This was his first time having sex with anyone, and he knew that with his orientation, sex would hurt. Though Oliver prepped him like he said he would, there was still a sting of pain with being stretched. He gripped the sheets under him, waiting out the pain. When it slowly disappeared, he wrapped his arms around Oliver's head and wiggled his hips, eyes pleading for the other to continue giving him plasure.

The Briton didn't need to be told twice. He instantly pulled out to his head, then slammed back in. (F/n)'s mouth opened at the shocking pleasure. The thrusts were first slow and aiming no where in particular. When the sensory stimuli on each of their body's collided more and more, Oliver's thrusting sped up. The Englishman then tried to aim for a certain spot. He kept going until he knew he hit that sweet spot - (f/n)'s prostrate. The (nationality) gripped Oliver harder, bringing their chests together as he arched his back once more. Grinning, Oliver focused on the one spot, thrusting with all his strength. (F/n)'s fingernails dug into Oliver's back, mouth open where gasps and moans would be coming out. The Brit grimaced a bit at the pain but instantly sped up his thrusts, aroused at the claw marks he knew would be on his back.

They kept at this for a while longer before Oliver felt his climax coming. "I'm g-going to..." (F/n) nodded in understand, also about to climax. The knots in both of the abdomens squeezed further until it snapped. Fluids released from the two as Oliver bit (f/n)'s shoulder and the (brunet/blond/etc.) clawed markings down the Briton's back. After reaching such a height, they panted, exhausted. Pulling out, Oliver collapsed besides his sweet, mute lover, smile on his lips as he brushed his fingers through (f/n)'s hair. "Well, darling, I doubt I ever could feel that much ecstasy with anyone else." The (nationality) blushed, smiling as he cuddled up to Oliver's chest. The pinket kissed his head, humming. "Now for a well deserved sleep, right darling?" He didn't feel a nod. Glancing at the younger man's face, he saw that (f/n) fell asleep already. Giggling, he pecked the other's forehead. "I love you, my precious (f/n)." With that, he entered the world of dreams alongside his adorable mute lover.


End file.
